


The Auction

by Anchestor



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Anxiety, Gen, Other uncomfortableness you can expect from a Slavery AU, Past Abuse, SlaveTale, Various sorts of implied bad times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 06:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13897968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchestor/pseuds/Anchestor
Summary: Elementals aren’t proper monsters, that is the reality Grillby lives in. It’s a fact of life. Elementals are summoned, they have obedience beaten into them, and then they are sold. Each and every one of them is left completely at the mercy of their owners.And for Grillby, it’s auction day.





	The Auction

Grillby kept his arms wrapped tightly around himself. The anxiety twisting in his stomach since morning was getting worse by the minute.

“Candle top.”

Grillby looked up at the handler.

“You’re up next. Look alive.”

Already? Grillby nodded. He tried to keep his breathing even.

It was auction day.

And that meant that they had all been rounded up, divided into groups, and carted into different parts of the city so that the buyers didn’t have to travel to the outskirts where the training camps were located.

The toilers were sold in the morning, the strong elementals destined to work in mines and construction sites. Thralls meant for hard labour in hard conditions, bought in groups without much inspection. Tradeworkers were scheduled for the afternoon, and handled a little more carefully, although it was rare for them to be sold individually. They were mostly factory workers, doing things that no respectable monster would want to do, but which required some skill.

But to his misfortune, fire elementals were rare, and Grillby was pretty. And that made him a _luxury item_.

A trinket.

‘Housethrall’ was the actual term. Elementals trained to serve in the homes of their masters, to be butlers and maids and cooks and gardeners, whatever was needed.

That wasn’t the entire truth, just the official one. While tradeworkers and toilers had heavier tasks in harsher conditions, as long as you didn’t draw attention to yourself, you were usually left alone. Not so much with trinkets.

No, trinkets were constantly under the watchful eyes of their masters. Trinkets were noticed, and trinkets were remembered.

And trinkets were to obey every command, do anything and everything demanded of them.

_Anything and everything._

Grillby shuddered. He had heard plenty of stories; stories he wished could not be true. But it wasn’t like the handlers in their training camp had been hesitant to give them a taste of what their future might entail.

The curtain in front of the doorway was pushed aside, and a water elemental whose name Grillby hadn’t learned entered the waiting room with shaky steps.

“Time to go, candle top.” The hander beckoned Grillby. He got up, forced his hands to hang loosely by his sides, and walked to the curtain.

“No acting up on stage”, the handler commanded, the making Grillby’s collar tingle as the order registered. “Remember what will happen if they wont want you.”

Grillby nodded. He took one last deep breath, and walked on the stage.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, do I have a treat for you!”

The spotlight hit his eyes, blinding him.

“One of the most, if not THE most exotic beauty of our collection tonight, a fire elemental!” The auctioneers voice rang loud from behind a podium as Grillby tried to blink his sight back. He walked slowly to the centre of the stage like he’d been told to earlier, and turned towards the buyers.

His breath hitched. Even if the large room was darkened, Grillby could see that it was crowded. Monsters wearing shimmering pearls and shiny silk ties were seated in rows, everything about them expensive and luxurious. And they were all looking at him.

“Let me tell you, nothing warms a hearth like a fire elemental! Like all our housethralls, this one is well versed in all chores of the home-” the auctioneer went on with a tirade on why the good people of the audience should pay lots of money for the absolute joy of owning a fire elemental.

Grillby subtly looked away from the buyers, fixing his eyes on the edge of the stage. He felt very naked under their scrutiny. He was wearing white trousers, his collar and not much more. His physique was a selling point to show off. And all these fancy people were staring at him, judging him, weighing how much they’d be willing to pay for him.

“-and easy on the eyes, isn’t he!” the auctioneer exclaimed with a wink.

“Give us a spin, doll!”

Grillby slowly turned around, trying to keep his flame from flaring as someone in the audience whistled and hollered.

“And I know what you are thinking: ‘Oh, he looks lovely! But a living fire, in my home?’ Fear not!” the auctioneer walked to Grillby with long strides as he spoke.

He placed his hand on Grillby’s arm.

“We here at Thrall Industries have an expert training programme, sure to tame the even the unruliest flame”, he said, trailing his hand up Grillby’s arm, to his shoulder, and down his bare chest.

Grillby tried to focus on the shine of the spotlight, the feel of the wooden stage under his bare feet, the smell of perfume and cologne radiating off the audience. Like the hand on his body was something separate, something dead. He fought the urge to scream, to run and to burn the hand touching him. He clenched his jaw together, and wilfully kept his fingers loose. Hands curled to fists looked aggressive, and aggressive thralls wouldn’t sell. And Grillby knew what happened to thralls that didn’t sell.

The auctioneer took his hand off. Grillby let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“And trust me, you’ll be delighted about how simple it is to discipline a fire elemental, if the need should arise.” The auctioneer walked back to his spot behind the podium, and Grillby felt incredibly relieved for the distance between them.

The auctioneer paused for a drink, and the audience whispered.

“Think how jealous the neighbours are going to be!” a front row couple agreed.

“Imagine having him warm your bed!” some women snickered.

“Just a splash of water…” a man in a wine red tie murmured, leering at Grillby. He tried not to shudder under the intent gaze. The man was a fish monster, thin in build, his tie matching his scales.

“Now then, time for the bidding! We’re starting off at 30 000, as usual, though he’s a steal at that price-”

“35 000!”

“40 000!”

“50 000!”

“70 000”, the man in the red tie said with a confident grin.

“Some serious bidders tonight, I see!” The auditioned smiled, toying with the mallet in his hand.

“Do I hear 75 000?”

The front row couple whispered furiously between themselves. “75 000!”

“80 000”, the red tie man said, without missing a beat.

“…Do I hear 85 000?”

The audience talked in hushed tones, but nobody raised the bid. Clothes shuffled, the door in the back opened and closed quietly. The red tie man smirked, his leer fixed on Grillby.

“For 80 000! Going once, going twice-”

“150 000.”

The voice wasn’t loud, but it carried through the room with ease. It sounded strange, like it was laced thick with an odd accent. Grillby lifted his gaze, trying to see who had made the bid. The voice had come from the back, hadn’t it?

But his spotlight struck eyes could only see darkness.

“-Going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman in the back!”

The auctioneer’s mallet hit the wood of the podium with finality, and with that, Grillby was ushered off the stage.

 

Grillby was sitting on the floor near the corner of the small room, hugging his legs, rocking himself back and forth, fighting to keep his breathing even.

150 000.

Someone wanted a fire elemental badly enough to pay one hundred and fifty _fucking_ thousand for him.

Grillby buried his head between his knees and gripped his arms as tightly as he could, trying to ground himself to the sensation of his fingers digging into his skin.

Whoever his new owner was, they were ready to pay a lot of money for a fire elemental, and he was dreading the moment he’d find out _why_.

There were noises behind the door, and the sound of a lock clicking open. Grillby rushed to his feet, holding his arms loosely at his sides, fingers forced relaxed, keeping his head lowered respectfully. He wished he could have wrapped his arms around himself. He had been allowed to put a shirt on, but now the thin fabric felt like a flimsy shield.

The buyer and the handler entered the room mid-discussion. Grillby kept his eyes on the floor. He didn’t want to look at his new owner. He didn’t want this to be happening. The training camp was a hell, sure, but at least it was a _predictable_ hell. The stars only knew what his new owner would want from him.

“This will only take a moment, I assure you- Oh, there you are. Good evening.”

The tone of the buyer was… polite. Grillby didn’t know what to make of that. He knew what overly friendly meant, or cool dismissiveness. Grillby had _never_ heard polite.

“So, you are Grillby then? Summoned last winter?”

Grillby nodded.

“He is. As the leading company on summoning and training elementals, we keep very close track of our thralls-”, the handler said.

“Yes, thank you, I’ve read your advertisements from the newspaper. There is no need for you to repeat your spiel.” The buyer sounded irritated about something as he addressed the handler. But his tone changed when he turned to talk to Grillby again.

“Nice to meet you, Grillby. I just wanted to ask you a few questions before signing the papers.”

 _Fuck_. Maybe not overtly friendly, but _too_ friendly. And that meant- No no no, he _didn’t want this-!_

“Excuse me? Are you quite alright?”

The buyer bent down, cutting Grillby’s stare at the floor. He finally looked up.

His new owner was a skeleton monster, with two large cracks on his skull. To Grillby’s surprise, he was wearing a simple, long black coat instead of a tailored suit or something like that. He was holding a clipboard, and the look on his face was actually… concerned?

“He’s just feeling a little shy, that’s all. His first time, you see”, the handler said dismissively.

“I…” the skeleton trailed off, shooting an odd look at the handler. It was almost a glare.

“Alright then.” He cleared his throat.

“It said on your file that you can do all standard chores?”

Grillby nodded.

“All our housethralls are trained-” the handler began.

“ _Excuse me.”_ The skeleton interrupted with an exasperated sigh. “I was talking to _him_.”

Grillby felt a wave of second-hand fear. You didn’t talk like that to a handler, _you couldn’t talk like that to a handler-!_

The handler snapped his mouth shut.

“So, as I was saying, according to your file you can do all housework?” The skeleton looked at Grillby expectantly.

Grillby nodded.

The skeleton furrowed his brow, and began to leaf through the papers on the clipboard.

“I- I’m sorry, do you have some sort of verbal issue? It didn’t say anything here about mutism…”

“One of our core principles at Thrall Industries is that a good thrall should be seen, but not heard”, the handler rushed to explain. “During training thralls are encouraged not to bother their owners, and our expert programme-”

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty about you _conditioning_ methods.” The skeleton rolled the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth. Then he turned toward Grillby again.

“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like for you to use your words. Is that alright?” The tone switched back to polite again.

“Yes, sir”, Grillby answered quietly.

The handler had a mix of an irritated and an appalled frown on his face.

“Excellent.” The skeleton flashed a smile. “So, about the chores. Won’t washing the dishes or doing the laundry cause a problem? I can’t imagine the water being too agreeable to you.”

Grillby hesitated a moment, formulating his answer.

“As long as I can use rubber gloves, there should be no problem, sir.” He hoped he sounded respectful. He knew what happened to thralls that weren’t respectful.

“Good to hear. Next, do you have an estimate on how hot of a temperature you can withstand? Could you, say, touch lava without it causing damage?”

Grillby blinked.

“I- I don’t know, sir. But touching a hot stove has never felt like it hurt, sir?” He was getting more nervous again. Why did the buyer want to know something like that?

“Hmmm.” The skeleton tapped the clipboard with a pen. “A hot stove… yes, that should work.”

“Is that all, mister-”

“ _Doctor_ , thank you very much. And just one last thing, I assure you.” The skeleton looked at Grillby.

“Can you read and write?”

“That’s absurd!” the handler exclaimed in shock. “He’s a _thrall_ , he’s not supposed to-”

“ _Thank you for your input_ , but frankly, if I had wanted your opinion on the matter, I would have asked.” The skeleton said with a clipped tone.

“So?”

Grillby felt as shocked as the handler had sounded. The handler was right, he was a thrall. Reading and writing was for people better than him.

“No, sir”, he answered, shaking his head. “Sorry, sir”, he felt the urge to add, dropping his gaze on the floor again.

The skeleton went ‘hmmm’.

“It’s alright. I mean, it’s not ideal, to say the least.” He clicked the pen. “But we can work with that.”

“Are you done?” the handler asked, thinly veiled annoyance in his voice.

“Yes. Where do I sign?”

The handler pointed at a few spots on the clipboard, and the skeleton scribbled his name down.

“Do you have your tag?”

“Yes.” The skeleton tucked the clipboard under his arm and dug a small metal plaque from his pocket.

The handler took a few steps towards Grillby and yanked him to himself by the collar. There was a small _click!_ as the tag marking him as the property of the corporation was removed. His collar immediately began to buzz with warning, a reminder of what would happen if he tried to act up during tag change.

The handler stepped back, and the skeleton closed the distance between them. He gripped Grillby’s collar gently, his fingers never touching Grillby’s skin, and slid his own plaque where the old tag had been. A click of the metal, and Grillby felt a wave of magic wash through himself, binding him to his new owner.

“Well then”, the handler said, taking the company’s copy of the contract. “Enjoy your purchase, doctor Gaster.”

 

Grillby followed his new owner down the street, a respectful two steps behind the skeleton. He was carrying a small bag of his things - well, technically they weren’t _his_. Thralls weren’t allowed to own things. The clothes in the bag were given for him to wear in the training camp, and now they belonged to his new owner, just like he did.

His owner. Gaster.

The skeleton had been quiet during their trip from the auction house. Grillby wondered what he was thinking about. What he had planned for him.

“We’re here”, Gaster said, stepping through the gate in front of one of the houses. Grillby looked at his new home. The building was large and fancy, just like he’d been expecting, but compared to the other houses on the street it looked rather humble. Sure, it was big, but definitely the smallest house in the neighbourhood, and sure, the façade was elegant, but not overtly decorated.

The interior matched the outside: while it was clear that the owner of the house was wealthy, the place was far from lavish. The rooms had simple, practical furnishing that still looked nice.

Grillby was getting nervous again. Gaster sure didn’t seem like that type to show off, or to indulge in luxuries.

So why had he bought _him_? Surely if all he wanted was a housethrall, he could have gotten someone else for much cheaper. So why had he wanted _him_ specifically?

Grillby tried not to let his anxiety show in his flame. But he couldn’t help the feeling of dread creeping to the back of his mind.

“This is where you’ll be staying”, Gaster said, pushing a door open.

Grillby followed Gaster into the room. There was a bed, a nightstand, a closet, a table and chair, all looking very modest. It was small, about the size of the room Grillby had lived in in the training camp, but with the notable difference that that room had been shared between four fire elementals. This was all his.

Grillby placed his bag on the bed, still taking in the room. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but this looked nice.

Gaster cleared his throat.

“Your main duty is taking care of the household. I expect you to work diligently, and most of all, independently. I have no time nor interest to micromanage you.” Gaster’s tone was oddly formal as he talked.

“You are allowed to freely go wherever you like in the house, with the exception of my laboratory. If you go in my office, don’t touch anything, especially the blackboard. And please do remember to knock.”

Gaster glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand.

“That should be the most important things…” he said. “It’s getting late. I think we’ll go over the details tomorrow.”

That was it? Just chores? Something nauseating began to curl in Grillby’s stomach again. That couldn’t be it. There had to be something wrong here, something awful-

Gaster tilted his head.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, sir”, Grillby quickly answered.

Gaster furrowed his brow, frowning, but he didn’t comment on it.

“If you have any questions, ask.”

Oh, Grillby had plenty of questions. But none that he’d ask his owner, that was for sure.

His collar began to tingle, a sensation like a cool sting.

Realization hit Grillby. No no no, Gaster couldn’t have meant that as an order, he couldn’t just blurt it all out, it would be disrespectful, he’d be punished-!

The tingling grew painful. He’d have to yield.

“Why did you buy me?” he whispered, hoping that it would satisfy the collar, and that Gaster wouldn’t hear.

“Excuse me?”

_Fuck._

“Why did you buy me?” he asked, still quiet, looking intently at the floor. “Why did you want _me_? Why did you pay over three times what I’m worth?”

He closed his eyes. This was it. He’d angered his owner. Gaster probably didn’t have a freezer like in the training camp, so he’d probably be punished with water-

“Does light green mean that you’re scared?”

Grillby opened his eyes, staring at Gaster. His voice had been so…

Soft.

“Your flame changes colour depending on your emotions, correct? I’ve read about it, but it’s very different to see it in person…” Gaster trailed off.

“It’s fully understandable, if you are. I know I’d be frightened. Being taken away from all you know, from everyone you know, to live with a complete stranger. But…”

Gaster raised his hand, as if to touch Grillby, but he pulled away quickly, wrapping his arms around himself instead.

“I know that this situation is… less than ideal, to say the least. And I am aware of the barbaric ‘training methods’ the industry uses. They have to be the most likely cause of your fear. But I assure you: I have no intention to follow their lead. I do hope that with time you’ll get more used to… to… _this_. And I hope, that with time… you won’t be scared anymore.”

Gaster paused for a moment.

“To actually answer your questions. I specifically require a fire elemental in my service, and you were the only one of the auction. While your day-to-day duties are revolved around housekeeping, your most important task is to assist me on the construction site of the Core. As that means working in superheated temperatures, I need someone who can withstand the environment.”

Gaster looked at Grillby. There was something soft in his eyes, something sad.

Something sympathetic.

“And as to why I paid so much for you? Well. You looked so uncomfortable on that stage, I thought it best to cut the bidding short.”

Gaster sighed, and the look was gone.

“You should try and rest. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.” Gaster turned to leave, stopping in the doorway.

“Good night”, he said, closing the door after himself with a quiet click.

And with that Grillby was alone.

He sat on the bed, turning Gaster’s words around in his head. Thinking about the gentle look that had flashed on his face.

Somewhere deep down, Grillby felt a glimmer of something he wasn’t sure he had ever truly felt before.

Hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback would be much appreciated!
> 
> Also, would there be interest in this fic being continued? I had thoughts on how the story could progress, but honestly, I don't want to write it if people aren't interested in reading it.


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